


Casualties of Domesticity

by surlybobbies



Series: Tumblr Quick Fics [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Poor thing, Sexually Frustrated Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 16:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4632867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surlybobbies/pseuds/surlybobbies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day, Cas walks into the kitchen shirtless, with only a pair of green plaid boxers hanging low on his hips.  </p><p>Dean slops coffee all over himself.  “C-Cas, what - uh.”  He pauses to gather himself and take a deep breath.  “Your clothes,” he says finally.  “Where are they?”</p><p>(In which the dryer breaks, and so does Dean.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

One day, Cas walks into the kitchen shirtless, with only a pair of green plaid boxers hanging low on his hips. 

Dean slops coffee all over himself. “C-Cas, what - uh.” He pauses to gather himself and take a deep breath. “Your clothes,” he says finally. “Where are they?”

Cas, in the middle of pouring himself a cup of coffee, turns to glare at him. He doesn’t say anything; he just goes back to pouring.

Sam trails in, sighing heavily. “It’s the dryer,” he explains, once he sees Dean staring at Cas’s bare back. “Conked out this morning. His clothes are air-drying.” He looks at the ceiling of the bunker. “It’ll take a while down here.”

Dean tries to take another casual swallow of coffee, but Cas sits down across from him and Dean misses his mouth. The coffee spills down his front instead. Cas just stares at him impassively, then steals his toast.

 

Dean takes it in stride - meaning he hides in his room for the rest of the day. It doesn’t help. He can’t help but remember the smooth angles of Cas’s back, the skin of his hips that dove under the waistband of his boxers, the way the muscles of his arm and chest flexed when he lifted his mug to his mouth. 

And that mouth. Dean suddenly can’t stop thinking about that mouth.

In the solitude of his room, Dean groans and pulls a pillow down onto his face. He stays like that, breathing in the cotton of his pillowcase, waiting for the urge to touch every inch of Cas’s skin to die.

It’s five minutes later that Dean hears someone knock. He doesn’t bother answering. 

“Dean?” It’s Cas. Dean pulls the pillow tighter over his face. He hears Cas’s bare feet pad to the bed, then feels the pillow being tugged away.

The first thing he sees is Cas, moving to sit at his hip. Then he sees Cas’s bare shoulders, then his collarbone and his chest, his stomach - he shuts his eyes and takes a deep, calming breath. “What’s up, bud?” His voice is hoarse.

“My clothes aren’t drying fast enough, and I dislike being without a shirt. May I borrow one of yours?”

Dean waves a hand toward his dresser, his eyes still squeezed shut. “Knock yourself out.”

“Thank you.”

There’s the sound of a drawer being open, then shut. Dean waits a few seconds for Cas to put the shirt on, then opens his eyes, turning to look. 

Cas has chosen one of Dean’s plain black shirts to wear. It’s looser on him than it is on Dean, but the dark fabric is snug against Cas’s shoulders and arms. If possible, he looks even better than he did when he was shirtless. Dean wants to touch every inch of him. With his tongue.

Cas smiles. “Thank you again, Dean,” he says, before turning and walking out of the room. Dean lifts his head and follows every flex and tense of Cas’s arms with his eyes.

When the door clicks closed, Dean gropes for the pillow. He presses it to his face. _“Fuck.”_


	2. Chapter 2

The dryer doesn’t take too long to be fixed. Dean does it himself, even though he has to drive to three different hardware stores to get what he needs. He figures it’s a small price to pay for having Cas properly clothed; the amount of awkward boners he’s had to hide from Sam and Cas over the past few days has been obscene.

And so the dryer gets fixed, and Dean happily does a load of laundry for Cas, thinking he’s only got a few more hours to bear of Cas wearing his shirts - or even worse, wearing no shirt at all.

Cas thanks Dean profusely for doing his laundry when Dean delivers a stack of clothes to the man’s room - and no, Dean absolutely does not stare at Cas’s arms as he takes his clothes.

At any rate, Dean thinks his ordeal is over and that Cas will go back to wearing the shirts and sweaters he picked up over his first few months as a fully-fledged human.

But no. No. Two days later, Dean walks into the kitchen in the morning to see Cas wearing one of his shirts again. Cas mumbles a good morning, then shuffles away with a cup of coffee in his hand. Dean gapes after him. 

Later, when Cas is more awake, Dean tries to bring it up - except that he finds he can’t think of what to say. He likes it. He likes Cas wearing his clothes. Even if it does cause a few more Cas-related boners to happen. 

So he lets it slide. Just this once.

But it keeps happening, and Dean’s shirts just keep going missing from his drawer - probably straight into Cas’s. It keeps happening, and Dean keeps letting it happen because something about seeing Cas in his shirts makes a fierce something rise in his chest, and it’s too addicting to let go of.

After a few weeks of this happening, Dean wakes up from a mid-afternoon nap to find Cas standing at his drawer, rifling through his shirts. He’s got a towel draped over one shoulder. Under the towel is what seems like miles of long, tanned muscle. Dean makes a strangled noise.

Cas looks over at him, his eyebrows raised in shock. “Dean,” he says, “Did I wake you?” 

It takes a few tries, but Dean eventually manages to say, “Uh, no. I - uh. What are you doing?”

Cas holds up a shirt. It’s blue plaid. It’ll look great on Cas. “I’m looking for something to wear.”

“You have things to wear,” Dean points out, though he immediately regrets it when Cas’s expression grows abashed. 

“I know,” Cas says, sounding dejected. He puts the shirt down. 

“Whoa, hey,” Dean says, pushing off the covers. “I didn’t say I minded.” He gets up and takes up the shirt again, offering it to Cas.

But Cas is shaking his head. “No, Dean, I should wear my own clothes. I have enough. Yours just - they smell nice. Like you.”

He might as well announced he was running for president. Dean stares. He drops the shirt back in the drawer “Sorry?”

Cas shrugs. “Your smell is comforting to me. It helps me fall asleep.” He looks at Dean, apologetic. “I’ll stop.”

And that’s it - three weeks’ worth of muted frustration make it so easy to surge forward and back Cas up into the drawer. He hears it slide closed and rock backward into the wall as he leans forward to kiss Cas, tilting his head. Cas makes a small sound of surprise, but he quickly recovers, returning the kiss and pulling at Dean’s shirt like he’s planning on stealing that one too. 

When Dean pulls back, he feels better than he has in three weeks. He lets his hands skim down Cas’s ribs, fingers catching where it’s still slightly damp from his shower. “Bring my clothes back,” he says, touching his forehead to Cas’s.

“Of course,” Cas says, out of breath. He sounds disappointed.

“And bring yours, too,” Dean continues. “There’s space in the drawer. Bring the rest of your shit, too.”

For a second, Cas’s eyes are wide and hopeful. Then he pauses, his eyebrows furrowing. “Dean. You are asking me to move into your room, correct?” 

Dean just kisses him again, open-mouthed and languid. When he pulls away, Cas’s expression has grown into something a lot more devious.

“I will take that as a yes,” he says, swiping a tongue over his bottom lip. 

Dean watches the motion with half-lidded eyes. “Yeah. Do it later,” he says, his fingers curving around Cas’s waist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Other fic (unpublished on ao3) can be found by looking through my "kc fic" tag on my tumblr - username surlybobbies.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 up in about a day, maybe less. If you want to read it on my tumblr, it's already up: http://surlybobbies.tumblr.com/post/127310322701/quick-fic-12


End file.
